Save It For Later
by Tell the Captain
Summary: The new scene was fresh and raw, its music cathartic to the disaffected youth of the 1970's. Debbie Roy loved it, but little did she know that it would provide her a connection to a man she would never think would be her friend, much less her lover.


Chapter One

Planes always made her anxious. It wasn't the thought of dying in a horrendous crash from the engines failing halfway across the Atlantic, or the cabin being depressurized suddenly resulting in everyone passing out from lack of oxygen and then freezing to death that made Debbie twist her fingers and jiggle one booted foot rapidly. It was the squeemishness she felt being in a room (if you could call it that) with so many different people and absolutely no means of escaping. The looks she was thrown, however covert the person thought they were being, did not help matters much.

Not for the last time Debbie ran her hand over her freshly shaven head, experiencing the slightest twinge of regret from her spur of the moment haircut that was garnering her far more attention than she wished to have at the moment, and wishing she had heeded her aunt's advice that she wear a scarf while traveling. _Whats done is done, _she thought.

Noticing a man in a suit that was far too long for him in the arm and leg staring at her she narrowed her eyes at him and gave a slight sneer, something that Paul Simonon might be proud of. The man immediately turned back around to face the front of the cabin but Debbie could see his eyes occasionly strain back trying to catch another glance of The Amazing Skinhead Girl.

"Fucking wanker", she muttered.

"Excuse me?" The stewardess had come up behind her unawares as she was passing out beverages to the passengers.

"Nothing ma'am" Debbie replied, and without being asked said, "May I have a coffee please?"

The stewardess narrowed her eyes, as if she was annoyed at being beaten to the punch, but handed her her coffee (albeit with thin-pressed lips and a cold glint in her eye) and pushed her cart further down the aisle. Debbie took a sip of her coffee, made a face, then sighing in resignation settled her seat back to have a nap. Before dozing off she reached into her coat pocket, just to reassure her that her wand was still there.

"Another bloody year", she whispered, before dreams of Oregon and trips up the North Umpqua with her dad took her over.

Six and half hours later saw her standing in London's Heathrow Airport looking at the lacquered and veneered vision that was her mother. Never one to age gracefully, Shirley Jones held on to what little she had of youth by slathering her face in as much makeup as possible and wearing the gaudiest of getups that didn't always fit the way they should.

"Good gawd, what the hell did you do to your _hair?_"

"Mum, I'll explain later."

"No, you'll tell me now!"

Debbie could feel the blush coming up from her shirt as she saw passerbys stop and gawk at the unlikely mother-daughter pair, no doubt planning to tell their friends as it would be the highlight of their rather boring business trip.

Seeing Debbie wasn't going to divulge any details whilst they had an audience, Shirley relented and helped her daughter pick up her bags and carry them out to the waiting taxi. Once they were in the backseat Shirley picked her apart for details, no doubt convinced that Debbie's father Joe was behind the sudden transformation of her daughter.

Debbie's mother had always harbored a bitter attitude towards her father. They had met when Debbie's father Joe had come to London on holiday. Debbie was born just ten months after they had first met, on November 8, 1959, and one month later they were married. They divorced when she was two, her father having had enough of the domineering personality that was Shirley Jones. He returned to the city in the United States that had grown up in, and from the time she was old enough to fly alone she would take a month long "retreat" in the summer and spend time with her father, returning just a week before Hogwarts began.

"So what inspired this little dive into rebellion?" Shirley could barely keep the mockery from lacing her words with acid.

"Because I knew it would annoy the piss out of you", Debbie threw at her. Never one to back down Shirley tried another tactic.

"What will they think of this at that school?" Debbie replied only with a raised eyebrow and a shrug of her shoulders before turning to the window to watch the buildings race by. It was the truth in a way, she wasn't sure what her classmates or teachers would think or say of her now absent waist-length hair. Most likely she would get the mickey taken out of her by James Potter and Sirius Black, butwould likely be passed over in a week for fresher prey.

They finally pulled up to their flat, and Debbie pulled her trunk out of the boot while Shirley (she could never call her mother) paid the driver while bitching about the extortionate rate he was charging them. After the taxi pulled away they gathered Debbie's things and approached the door.

"Where's Barry?" Debbie asked.

"Got rid of him. He couldn't get his lazy ass off the couch and work, so I got rid of him."

Shirley was forever going through a cycle of boyfriends trying to find "Mr. Right" but usually only ever found layabouts or drunks. Maybe if she didn't go to the pub to snag a man...

"Well, I'm going to try and get some sleep."

"What, at three in the afternoon?!"

"Yeah, well, jet lag and all..."

"Well, its just as good. We've got nothing to eat in this house till I get down to the shoppes and get something."

Barely acknowledging this Debbie pushed the door open to her closet of a bedroom and flung herself on her bed, sending a cloud of dust into the air that was illuminated by the sun streaming through her window. Closing her eyes against the sight, she chose to think on other things-an emerald green river winding through a canyon thick with Douglas fir and Dogwoods; hotsprings with a view of the river; an ancient caldera filled water so clear and blue you'd swear you were looking at the sky.

The sun outside went behind a bank of clouds, and Debbie drifted to sleep.


End file.
